For those of you who didn't read the first installment of my memoirs, you're terrible, terrible people. How do you fix that? Click on these pretty blue letters.
Captain's Ledger Friday, 9-30-11
91 days til I turn 19
Another late morning, 5:50 in the A.M. Used coconut milk and water mixture (30%/70%) for a pleasant and sweet liquid in my cereal. Was very similar to almond milk. Left ~6:30 to rescue 2 ATVs from the Bog. The mates and I broke several tow straps last night attempting to pull them out. Today [we] met with success retrieving them. We also made a "bridge" to cross a pretty terrible area near the highway. Returned to camp, boiled hot dogs and made cheesy chili. Conked out for a good half hour, munchitized, then proceeded to be half awake while hiding from the midday sun. Had to change the gas drum. We managed to thread the rotary pump into the top AND fix the handle so it now revolves smoothly. Also today we all ferried out super sacks filled with sally sacks which we shall use to bag those wonderful brine shrimp eggs. After the hauling of bags and crates was finished, the bosun took me and my first mate (Maurice Benally) on a scouting mission at sea. Upon reaching the briny deep, the bosun began pointing out indicators of our microscopic harvest. First mate and I found a tennis ball and a child's baseball bat. Bosun scavenged a 5-gallon ashtray.
I worked on my grave, need a good rain to get deepen it.
Saturday, 10-1-11
Found STEVE
Yet another late start. Up and going ~7 A.M. Around 9, bosun showed the crew the basics of harvesting brine shrimp. Harvest officially started at noon. Prepared hot dogs for dinner.
Sunday, 10-2-11
Sunday the 2nd revealed there is no day of rest here. Full days will begin soon. Up at 3 A.M. on the beach by 4 A.M. and harvesting at first light. Today I whipped up gourmet teriyaki chicken, molded (shaped?) sculptured rice. <-- The crew greatly appreciated my efforts. Apparently it was discussed and decided to make me the official camp chef. This morning one man defected. <--- As soon as we began departing for work he spoke to the bosun, who promptly deported him. Around 9 at night, bosun retrieved a large man from the highway. The man had quite the tale of woe. He had come from another camp (Antenna?) where all was chaos. Food and supplies would be shipped and arrive (sometimes not) and a feeding frenzy would ensue. Henry, as he was called (fondly my Big Friendly Giant), had been working the past two full days on a few cups of milk.
May the odds be ever in your favor.
